Another Night
by Artist For Love
Summary: A new killer is loose in San Francisco, and his latest victim is the last person Mal and Natara expected. Mal, driven by a need for revenge, sets out to catch him once and for all.
1. Chapter 1

Natara loved the city at night. She loved the way the lights looked against the black sky. She loved the cool air on her skin. What she didn't love was the new moon that failed to shed light on the dark San Francisco streets. What she hated was the sound of frantic footsteps that faded away into the blackness, even as she continued after them. It was over, though; she knew she wasn't catching this killer. Not tonight.

As if to emphasize the gravity of her failure, the inky sky suddenly began to pour in dismay, blurring Natara's world. She quickly sought refuge under the canopy of a building, leaning over on the sidewalk to catch her breath. Gulping in huge lungfuls of night air, she looked around at the dark city. Here and there, pedestrians still roamed in small groups, and several had stopped to watch the chase, though they all kept moving upon witnessing her failure. Natara felt like screaming. Instead, she took a moment to reorganize her thoughts as her pounding heart slowed to a regular pace. She could feel the adrenaline slowly receding and logic seeping in to take its place. This was Natara. Cool, reasonable. Not afraid of failure.

"After all, there will be another chance," her logical mind insisted.

Still, some part of her couldn't help asking, "Will there?" But she had decided long ago which voice she would listen to.

"No."

At the sound of the familiar voice, Natara turned automatically toward the speaker. Her partner jogged up to her, his chest heaving and skin beaded with sweat in the cool night.

"He's gone." Mal spoke breathlessly, bent over with his hands on his knees, desperately sucking oxygen into his starved lungs.

"He outran me." The words were flat, laced with disappointment. They were followed by a sound of frustration from Mal, somewhere between a sigh and a roar. Then he looked up at her and nodded.

"Next time, I swear. We're bringing him in."

He looked like he wanted to say more, but at that moment Natara's phone, forgotten in the pocket of her street clothes, rang shrilly. The sound pierced the still night. She fished it quickly out of her pocket and lifted it to her ear.

"Agent Williams."

"Natara, it's Blaise. Did you two get him?"

"No."

Her reply hung there for a moment, then Blaise spoke urgently. "Listen, what street are you on?"

Natara swiveled around to read the sign in the glow of the streetlight. "West Avenue. Why?"

"Take a right onto the next street. There's an abandoned warehouse. That's where we found the victim."

"The...victim?" Natara's insides clenched at the thought of another casualty.

"Yes, the victim. We don't have an identity. But she's still alive, so just focus on the case."

Natara glanced at Mal, whose face looked pained. "Who is it?"

Natara relayed his question to Blaise, who responded dully, "A little girl."


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey people! I'm back! So, a million thanks to those who reviewed. It truly means a lot to me. Shoutout to Jupal for helping me figure out what to do with the next chapter. I really appreciate it. You have Jupal to thank for a relatively quick update. Don't get used to it. ;) Anyway, here's Chapter 2. Enjoy! **

Outside the doors of the San Francisco Police Department precinct, the world was still spinning. Inside, it had come to a full stop.

Mal Fallon was numb. He sat at his desk in the deserted bullpen immersed in a sea of paperwork and resentment. He didn't know which was drowning him, only that he couldn't breathe.

Natara sat across from him, lost, Mal knew, somewhere deep in her own worries, though her inscrutable face revealed nothing. She was close enough to touch. Funny, he felt a million miles away from her. Without warning, she looked up at him and touched his arm lightly, seeming to look for words. Mal lowered his eyes to her fingertips resting on his forearm. He had a strong, unexpected urge to pull away. Yes, he had a lot to forgive her for before he felt he could accept her comfort. For the hundredth time, he heard himself repeat distantly, "You were so close. You could have had him. You were so close."

And for the hundredth time, she replied, "I'm sorry." He knew this, of course, but he still felt a wild need to reach over and shake her, to make her understand. _You could have had him.__  
_

But he had gotten away. Gotten away with killing enough strangers to make Mal hate him with a burning fury. But he had gone too far when he had stolen a girl, a kid, really, from her family. And that family was Mal. That girl was his niece. Denni. _His _Denni.**  
**

At the moment, the precinct knew painfully little that would help them catch her kidnapper, due largely to the fact that Denni was in the hospital with two minor bullet wounds in a state of impenetrable shock and probably wouldn't be spilling information any time soon. Also due to the fact that this killer's work was impeccable. A thorough search of the old warehouse had revealed nothing but occasional splatters of Denni's blood from the bullet wounds she'd received. When he pictured those bloodstains, Mal's stomach twisted sickeningly with rage, an instense anger that burned so hot it was painful.

When they found her, the killer had left her in the warehouse and made a run for it, seemingly realizing that he couldn't escape with her in tow. She had been beaten bloody and shot twice, one bullet piercing her right calf and the other grazing her shoulder. Neither wound was life-threatening, but they immobilized her so that she 'd been found lying on the dirty warehouse floor.

Bloody, bruised, and crying, she'd been unrecognizable. Her name, age, and family had remained unknown until Mal arrived. It was Mal who identified her, and Mal who was the first to speak to her. It quickly became apparent that the worst damage was psychological. Halfway through the story, she'd fallen into some sort of shock and been unable to continue. Kidnapped out of her bed the previous night, driven halfway across the state in an unfamiliar car, beaten, shot, and left to die, her sunken eyes revealed fear and helplessness that turned Mal's heart to ice. But the ice was dangerously thin, deceivingly fragile. And with every second that his niece lay unresponsive in a hospital bed, it threatened to crack.

**So, yeah. Time for some major depression and Mal awesomeness. I apologize for the extremely short chapters, but that's how my brain works. I promise that this story is going somewhere; the next few chapters should get much more intense. So stick around for that. And don't forget that lovely little button down there that starts with a R and ends with a W. Rock on and God bless.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey People! I'm back with Chapter 3. Super-short, but you're probably getting used to that by now. Enjoy!**

An unforeseen complication. Mal Fallon sat in a deserted waiting room, feeling absolutely nothing, unsure he was even awake and not trapped inside some sick nightmare. His niece was gone, and that was the only explanation they could offer. A complication. One that had cost Denni her life.

The best the doctors could give him was that given the combination of blood loss and severe shock, her body was simply unable to fight infection.

Everyone else had left the hospital and gone home to mourn in relative peace. But Mal found that he could not move. He sat paralysed in his chair, one moment experiencing a rising feeling of panic and the next feeling nothing at all. At some point whatever small part of him was still functioning seemed to realize that he couldn't sit in this waiting room for the rest of his life; eventually he would have to leave. Go home to his empty apartment.

The journey from the double doors across the sidewalk to his car suddenly seemed to take several years longer than it should. By the time he slid into the driver's seat and locked himself in, his breath was coming in short, shaky gasps. The ice that enveloped his heart was melting away, quickly being replaced by anguish and a sense of urgency that didn't make sense to him. Raising his head, he looked over the dashboard out at the cool afternoon. Here and there, people stepped in and out of cars, hand in hand with children or talking in unconcerned voices, acting for all the world as if everything was fine. A gentle breeze blew through the grass. Somewhere a bird sang in lilting tones. Mal's heart clenched at the normality of the scene, but that small part of his brain was asking him what he really expected. In truth, Mal didn't know.

The drive home took an eternity. The light outside was beginning to fade, casting a dull, grayish glow over everything. As Mal opened the door to his apartment, he was struck by the emptiness of it. Funny, it hadn't ever bothered him before. Right now, it stung.

Mal pulled his shoes off and flopped into bed, still fully clothed. He lay staring at the ceiling for a minute or two, afraid of what he might dream if he closed his eyes. He finally rolled over and pulled the sheet over himself, knowing it was futile. He wasn't going to sleep tonight.

Natara Williams paced the precinct, overwhelmed by the surge of new evidence that had just rushed in. She needed her partner here, but he hadn't shown up today. She bit her lip, imagining what it would take to pull Mal away from this case. Something was definitely very wrong; she wished she knew what. In the meantime, she would have to do what she could without him.

Natara was wondering where to begin when the door to the crime lab opened and Kai Kalaba stepped out, carrying an overflowing box of equipment and sporting his usual dumb grin. He sidled up to her, dropping the box on her desk with a heavy thud. "Time to start analyzing."

The way Kai said it, it sounded like the most wonderful job in the world. With a sigh, Natara resigned herself to a day of only Kai for company and got to work.

Several minutes later, Kai suddenly seemed to realize who was missing. "Hey, where's Maligator?"

"First of all," said Natara, fighting the urge to glare at him, "His name is Mal. And second..." Though the words pained her, she had to admit, "I have no idea."

**So, there you have it. Hope it was sufficiently depressing. :) Anyway, I'll be out of town for several days, so I most likely won't be able to update. Try not to hate me too much; I promise to give you Chapter 4 as soon as I get back. Until then, keep writing and eating your green vegetables. "See" y'all later!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi! It's been a while, I know. So here's what happened. I was just trying to update my other fanfic and accidentally posted the new chapter to this story. In trying to fix this, I somehow deleted this chapter. So this is me reposting it due to my stupidity. I also realized how badly I need update this fic. Believe it or not, I'm working on the next chapter. I just like to procrastinate. So since I've gotten your hopes up I'll be posting Chappie 5 very soon. To make up for the giant gap in my updates I might revise my original plans for this story to make it longer and better. Sooo sorry for temporarily abandoning it. I never actually abandoned it, though; I planned to update _eventually. _Anyway, here's your chapter back. Sorry if I've confused anybody.**

"Why wasn't I told?"

Mal Fallon stood at his captain's desk, clearly exhausted and looking slightly paler than normal. Two days after Denni's death, a new victim. Not much older than Denni. Another knife to Mal's gut. Another sleepless night.

The captain sat behind her desk, looking weary but precariously calm. She replied in an even voice, "You obviously were."

"It's been eight hours! I should already be on the scene!"

"I had to make some phone calls since the murder was not, strictly speaking, in the San Francisco area. We'll be out there first thing in the morning."

"_We'll?_" Mal echoed, looking at her questioningly.

Captain Yeong smiled wearily and gestured toward the empty chair across from her. "Please, Detective. Take a seat. Take a breath."

Mal did as he was told, but didn't take his eyes off her. "It's him." It was not a question.

Captain Yeong gave him a small nod. "Yes. We can't prove it yet. But yes."

She paused for a moment, and Mal let it sink in. This man was still killing. And he would continue to kill until Mal put him behind bars. Or killed _him_.

The captain continued carefully. "I was thinking of letting Natara take over the on-site investigation. Let you stay here and cover the written end of the case. A coordination role, maybe."

"What?"

Mal stared at her, feeling an anger rising in him that he had never felt toward the captain. "This is _my_ case. You can't remove me! Know one knows this killer like I do!"

The captain sighed. "I'm not removing you, Mal. In all your years with this department you must have noticed that we juggle detectives regularly. For a host of reasons."

Mal looked at her blankly. It was silent. He finally repeated, "No one knows him like I do." His voice was flat. He spoke quietly, with an uncharacteristic look of defeat. Maria watched him for a moment, sympathy in her eyes. Mal hated it.

It was a moment before Maria spoke again, in a gentler voice than before. "One of those reasons is the relationship between detective and critical parties. Particularly the victim."

"I've spent months breathing down his neck!" Mal was close to shouting, wonderingly vaguely if he sounded as desperate as he felt. "Please, for God's sake, Maria. Don't do this to me!"

The captain replied quietly, meeting his blazing eyes. "He killed your niece, Mal." Mal looked away. When he didn't answer, the captain went on. "Mal, I know these things are hard. But I'm begging you. Try to look at this situation objectively. He knew you were getting close. He saw you closing in. Then you and Natara came within five minutes of catching him, and he took offense. Decided to get rid of the threat the easiest way possible. He targeted someone you loved. If he sees that you're still fighting, there is every chance that you'll be next. I want you out there, Mal; if anyone can catch him, it's you. But the equation changed when he killed your niece. If I send you, your life will be in danger."

"You're damn right it changed." Mal leaned forward. "Don't talk to me about danger, Maria. I signed on for danger." He swallowed hard. "I swore an oath to serve and protect. But if I can't protect my own family, it means nothing."

Mal bit his lip. What he wanted, more than anything, was to tell the captain exactly where she could put her objectiveness. Instead, he forced his voice to remain carefully controlled. "He _wants _me off this case. That's why he killed her."

"Mal-"

_"You're giving him exactly what he wants."_

Mal stood up, his hands shaking with barely suppressed rage. He was amazed at what he was about to do, but the words left him of their own accord. "You should know that if you do this, I _will_ turn in my badge and go after him outside of the law."

The captain got to her feet, reaching for him. All pretense was gone. "I'm begging you, Detective. Think about this."

Mal wrenched his arm away from her. There was no changing her mind, he knew. It didn't matter. His mission was now excruciatingly simple. Justice. Justice for a man Mal suddenly realized he hated. More than he'd ever hated anyone. He had loved Denni. Still loved her. But that love was painful. Hate was much easier.

He turned and left the precinct.

**Here's to me updating before Christmas! Au revoir, salut, à la prochaine, à bientôt!**


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